All Bruises Fade With Time
by LegolasLover2003
Summary: ONESHOT. Legolas tells the Hobbits how he became an archer. A story of quite some significance. Not only did he learn to stick to his promises, but he learned just how much those around him truly cared for the young prince. For Feb 08 Teitho. 3rd Place!


**Title:** _ "All Bruises Fade With Time"_

**Author: **LegolasLover2003 aka Ashley

**Category: ** Book -_ "Lord of the Rings"_

**Genre: **Angst/Drama

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own any rights to_ "The Lord of the Rings"_. I just adore it to pieces!

**Author's Note: ** This story was written for the February 2008 challenge in the Teitho Fanfiction Contest, Good Vs. Evil. I TOOK 3rd PLACE! WOOT!

* * *

"Are you sure?"

The small blond head nodded enthusiastically.

"It will take a lot of hard work and practice, ion nin. I..."

Bright blue eyes opened even wider, tears swimming in their depths.

"Please ada?" the Elfling's soft voice spoke. "I want to learn... and Legede already agreed to teach me."

Looking up, Thranduil sighed, his gaze on the elder Elf before him. "Are you sure, mellon nin? You have never taken on an apprentice before." the Elvenking grinned. "Much to my own chagrin."

Legede returned his lord's smile. "Your ada, hir nin, was a proficient archer. You learned from a warrior far more skilled than I."

"Modesty does not become you, Legede." Thranduil sighed, turning his gaze back to his son. "Very well then, Legolas. You have my permission."

Before the Elfling could jump for joy, for that was surely on his mind, the Elvenking held up a hand.

"But under one condition."

Legolas' smile was enormous. "Anything ada!"

"No matter how hard it is, Legolas... you can not give up. Are we agreed?"

With another enthusiastic nod, the young Mirkwood prince set himself on the path to become the greatest archer that Middle-earth had ever seen...

* * *

**All Bruises Fade With Time**

* * *

Legolas laid down his paddle and took up the bow that he had brought from Lorien. Then he sprang ashore and climbed a few paces up the bank. Stringing the bow and fitting an arrow he turned, peering back over the River into the darkness. Across the water there were shrill cries, but nothing could be seen.

Frodo looked up at the Elf standing tall above him, as he gazed into the night, seeking a mark to shoot at. His head was dark, crowned with sharp white stars that glittered in the black pools of the sky behind. But now rising and sailing up from the South the great clouds advanced, sending out dark outriders into the starry fields. A sudden dread fell on the Company.

'Elbereth Gilthoniel!' sighed Legolas as he looked up. Even as he did so, a dark shape, like a cloud and yet not a cloud, for it moved far more swiftly, came out of the blackness in the South, and sped towards the Company, blotting out all light as it approached. Soon it appeared as a great winged creature, blacker than the pits in the night. Fierce voices rose up to greet it from across the water. Frodo felt a sudden chill running through him and clutching his heart; there was a deadly cold, like the memory of an old wound, in his shoulder. He crouched down, as if to hide.

Suddenly the great bow of Lorien sang. Shrill went the arrow from the elven-string. Frodo looked up. Almost above hm the winged shape swerved. There was a harsh croaking scream, as it fell out of the air, vanishing down into the gloom of the eastern shore. The sky was clear again. There was a tumult of many voices far away, cursing and wailing in the darkness, and then silence. Neither shaft nor cry came again from the east that night.

After a while, Aragorn led the boats back upstream. They felt their way along the water's edge for some distance, until they found a small shallow bay. A few low trees grew there close to the water, and behind them rose a steep rocky bank. Here the Company decided to stay and await the dawn: it was useless to attempt to move further by night. They made no camp and lit no fire, but lay huddled in the boats, moored close together.

'Praised be the bow of Galadriel, and the hand and eye of Legolas!' said Gimli, as he munched a wafer of lembas. 'That was a mighty shot in the dark, my friend!'

'But who can say what it hit?' said Legolas.

'I cannot,' said Gimli. 'But I am glad that the shadow came no nearer. I liked it not at all. Too much it reminded me of the shadow in Moria - the shadow of the Balrog,' he ended in a whisper.

'It was not a Balrog,' said Frodo, still shivering with the chill that had come upon him. 'It was something colder. I think it was —' Then he paused and fell silent.

'What do you think?' asked Boromir eagerly, leaning from his boat, as if he was trying to catch a glimpse of Frodo's face.

'I think - No, I will not say,' answered Frodo. 'Whatever it was, its fall has dismayed our enemies.'

'So it seems,' said Aragorn. 'Yet where they are, and how many, and what they will do next, we do not know. This night we must all be sleepless! Dark hides us now. But what the day will show who can tell? Have your weapons close to hand!'

* * *

Darkness surrounded the Fellowship, pressing in upon all of their minds. For a long time, none spoke after Aragorn's statement, but every member held steel close.

Aragorn and Boromir both held their swords against their chests, listening... waiting...

The four Hobbits huddled together for warmth, each one clutching to the hilt of a shinny dagger.

Gimli kept his axe near at hand.

And Legolas, the only member to not hold steel this night, laid his bow over his chest, staring up at the stars.

"What do you think on, mellon nin?"

Looking to the side, Legolas smiled slightly. He lay next to Aragorn, the two friends trying to find some semblance of peace in the chaos that both knew was sure to come.

"I wonder about what I shot down today." the prince replied. "Which foul creature of Sauron's make flew over our boats this night?"

Aragorn shook his head, "Frodo knows, though he is loath to speak it..."

"They are frightened, Estel." Legolas moved slightly, turning so he could check on the Hobbits. "They fear what lurks in the dark... waiting for us."

Gimli scoffed at this notion. "Fear? Bah! I bet these lads would cheer up if somethin' were ta get their minds offa this sorry state."

Smiling, the Elf nodded. "Indeed it would, Master Dwarf. Though I highly doubt anything short of a feast could cheer up our small companions."

"Could ya tell a story?"

Glancing across the boat, the Elven prince spied the curly hair of Peregrin Took. He was peeking over the side of the boat which he, Merry, and Boromir shared. The inquisitive look in the Hobbit's eyes begged for a tale, begged for an end to the constant fear and waiting.

Legolas smiled softly, "What sort of tale would you like to hear, Master Peregrin?"

The Hobbit was silent for a long moment, but when he answered, he was smiling. "Ya just shot down a great creature. How'd ya get so good with tha bow?"

"The bow?" the Elf shook his head slightly, "I have had years of practice, Master Hobbit. But the use of such a weapon is not as easy as it may look."

Suddenly however, even Frodo pipped in a question. "But you're so quick with it." the usually quiet Hobbit spoke up. "I mean... In the blink of an eye, your bow is strung and an arrow singing into the night."

"Legolas had a wonderful teacher." Aragorn said, glancing to the Elf at his side. "Granted, the tale may frighten the Hobbits more if told in this gloom."

"It... it's scary?"

Frodo sighed, nudging the gardener. "Come on, Sam. It's just a story."

"Very well then." Legolas proclaimed. "I shall tell you how I came to learn this skill. But the tale is no easy thing, though... I suppose... neither is archery itself..."

* * *

"Get up, Legolas."

The Elfling winced, clearly sore and in pain. Blue eyes found those of Legede, and the prince wondered, if not for the first time, if his father's long time friend and mentor... were actually trying to kill him.

"Get up."

"I can't!" the Prince snapped quickly, his tears of pain turning into ones of anger. "It hurts, Legede..."

The white haired Elf's stern expression never changed however. "If you want to become an archer, nay a warrior, Legolas, then you will have to learn that pain is a necessary evil." He knelt next to the Elfling who sat upon the ground. "Pain is our body's way of telling us that something is wrong. And yet sometimes, you will have to push past that pain to save yourself or to save the lives of those under your leadership and command."

The Prince glared at him, clutching his arm close to his chest.

"Why can't I have one of those?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of betrayal.

Legede shook his head however, "From now on, Legolas, until I deem you ready, you will not shoot with an bracer on your forearm. You may not always have one at your disposal."

"But it hurts!" the Elfling cried, "and it... it's all purple and black and..."

"And it will hurt for sometime." Legede replied before standing, though he did not help the younger Elf up. "That is enough practice for today. I want you to do those exercises that I taught you. Tomorrow, we will begin the lesson again and at that time, I will see how much you have improved."

Legolas stood, obviously vexed at the white haired Elf. "Just how am I supposed to do that when I can't even move my arm?" he asked angrily.

But the elder Elf only smiled slightly at the Prince. "I want you to also use the looking glass in your chambers. Practice the stance I told you."

"Legede!"

But the Captain of Mirkwood's guard had turned and was walking back to the palace proper. Enraged, Legolas picked up the quiver that lay on the ground beside him, hurling it after the Elf.

It missed, and Legede let it lie.

"Ada will care..." the Elfling whispered, sniffing back tears. "Ada will make him be nice. It's not supposed to hurt..."

* * *

"But Ada!"

Thranduil shook his head, waving a hand for one of the nearby servants to refill his goblet of wine. "I told you before, Legolas... you are not to quit your lessons."

"But Ada, Legede doesn't care if I get hurt or not!" the Prince protested, having not even touched his food yet.

But Thranduil merely smiled, reaching out for his goblet and sipping the Dorwinion beverage within.

His blue gaze glanced up, seeing his obviously vexed his son was on the matter. Before he had time to reply however, the sound of clattering silverware reached the Elvenking's ears and he watched as Legolas stood from the table.

In a fit of anger, the Prince had slammed his napkin back onto the fine dishes. "You don't care." he whispered, his gaze narrowed on the elder Elf. "No one cares! He won't let me wear an arm guard, and he expects me to be perfect on my first day! He doesn't ask if I'm alright when my arm is more bruised than the backside of a Dwarf trying to ride a horse!"

"You know, ion nin..." Thranduil spoke softly. "He does what he thinks is best. Do you realize how many have begged Legede to be taught the art of the bow and arrow? For thousands of years, he refused. I'll admit it now that he is older and, in many ways, wiser than myself. If Legede deems you fit to learn, for he came to me on the matter, Legolas, not you, then you will learn. It is either that... or you remain inside for the spring months and study the lore of Valinor. There are plenty of books simply waiting for you to open them."

But Legolas said nothing to this. Instead, he pushed his chair out and stalked from the room.

Sighing, Thranduil glanced to a doorway a few feet behind him. "You were listening?"

"I was hir nin." Came the soft voice of Legede, the Captain of Mirkwood's guard entering the dining hall.

"And?"

The white haired Elf smiled, "He is a stubborn Elfling, hir nin."

Thranduil laughed. "True... but, once he learns how important this gift is... he will understand it's necessity. This, I feel, will draw you two closer in the end."

"I hope so, hir nin. Because if not... Your son may just hate me for eternity."

* * *

Blue eyes gazed back at him.

In the firelight from the hearth, an eerie glow permeated the bed chambers. It was dark out, dreadfully so, but Legolas' balcony windows were not closed and shuttered.

No, the Elfling allowed the night's sweet wind to cool his body... as well as his temper.

Dressed in naught but silver leggings with a matching shirt, the young Elf appeared ready for bed.

And yet...

Yet the Prince was standing in the middle of his room, starring into a looking glass that showed his entire body.

He was small for his age, scrawny would be a better term for him, he guessed. There was hardly any muscle on the thin arms. But then again, Legolas had always been small.

For over an hour he had been on the ground, holding up his small body, practicing on building up muscles in his arms and back.

He would need the strength...

Clasped gently in delicate fingers was a longbow. This same weapon was what Legede had started him out on, with a pull of hardly two stone. Still, the tiny hands and small frame had problems stringing the bow, much less pulling for a release.

"I'll show him..." Legolas whispered in the darkness.

His left shoulder turned to the mirror, his entire body straight and facing his balcony doors. Legolas's head looked to the left, locking his gaze on the blue one reflected back.

In one fluid movement, though it was somewhat awkward where drawing was concerned, the bow was up and pointing at that reflection. His eyes narrowed, left hand trying not to choke the weapon. His index finger above the knock rest, the middle and ring fingers just below the first. Thumb and pinky were touching on his palm as Legolas made a small adjustment to his shoulder positioning. The Elfling's left shoulder was rolled back, his elbow out just enough to, hopefully, prevent another monstrous bruise like the one that pained him even then. His right arm was straight as the imaginary arrow he had knocked, the Prince's elbow perfectly in line.

For a long time, Legolas didn't move. He simply stared at his reflection, taking it all in.

When his arms could no longer support the bow's weight, the Elfling let go the tension on the string, though he didn't do it as if firing an arrow. He unlocked his shoulders carefully, dropping the bow to rest at his side.

"I'll show Legede..." he whispered again. "I can be better than him."

The challenge had been issued.

Legolas Thranduilion was about to go into battle.

Though even he did not know it...

* * *

"Always check your equipment, Legolas." Legede reminded as he urged two horses from the stables.

Neither mount had tack nor gear, for the Elves of Mirkwood prided themselves on their bareback riding skills. Skills that even the Men of Rohan were known to envy.

The Prince's white mare trotted up to him, allowing for Legolas to stroke the mount's large long nose gently. "Why bother? We'll be back before lunch." he spoke, a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder.

"Did you check your arrows or not, Legolas?"

The Elfling rolled his eyes, "Yes."

"And your bow? No cracks?"

"A thousand times yes, Legede. Can't we leave now?"

Laughing softly, the captain nodded, mounting his horse. Legolas followed suit, and with a word of command, the grand gates of Mirkwood opened, allowing the two into the darkness of the forest.

Light filtered down through the leaves, and it seemed to Legolas that this day brought more sunshine than most.

"Are we hunting deer?"

Legede nodded, "You'll learn faster out in the wild. Away from distractions. Besides, a moving target will be more suited to the skills of a warrior than a painted one on the practice fields." he smiled, looking to the Elfling who rode at his side. "That, and you can always shoot at home after this lesson."

The Prince sighed, his gaze lingering on the forest around him.

"How is your bruise?"

This question took the Elfling by surprise. "Why would you care?"

"All bruises will fade with time, Legolas. Those you carry will serve to remind you of the pains of learning. Can you blame me for wanting to teach you?"

Legolas looked to him, confusion in his eyes. "How can you say you want to teach me? My arm, my entire arm, Legede, is black and purple! It hurts to even move and here you are, making me draw this foolish bow over and over and over again!"

"You wanted to learn, did you not, Legolas?"

"Of course!" the Prince shouted at him, "But I didn't exactly want to be tortured in the process."

Smiling sadly, Legede nodded. "You know not of torture, caun nin... This is but a temporary pain, one that will fade in a few days. But with those bruises, you will remember your lessons and... maybe... one day... realize that you can save a great many lives from the tortures of our enemies."

"Yes well, I highly doubt I'll be leaving home any time soon." Legolas left the conversation at that, instead turning his mind to the woods around him.

If Legede wanted him to give up, the prince wasn't about to.

He was stronger than that.

Stronger...

The Prince sighed, "Legede, I..."

But suddenly, the Elfling was knocked from his mount. Dazed and confused, Legolas' eyes popped open to find Legede standing protectively over his prone form, the elder Elf's dark wood bow strung and drawn, an arrow on the string.

And then he heard it...

Legolas' mare whinnied, the Prince looking over to see the poor creature covered in a thick mucus-like white substance. The poor beast struggled, but seemed to be only getting more and more stuck as time went by.

Time...

It had slowed down, the Elfling realized. Quickly he got to his feet, stringing his own bow.

"Legolas, return to the palace." spoke the elder Elf, glancing down to his student. "Go!"

But the Prince shook his head, blond hair in disarry from his fall. "I won't leave you to fend for yourself, Legede. I..."

Even as Legolas fit an arrow to his string, spiders sprang down from the trees. He heard the whistle of Legede's arrow.

Then another...

And another...

Finally, the Prince took aim, directly at a large arachnid that was leaping toward him from behind.

Pulling back on the string, Legolas let the arrow fly...

His bow snapped in half, the string flying out to whip across the Prince's chest, tearing his tunic and drawing a thick line of blood. His arrow had landed somewhere, but the blond Elf could not see where. He winced, throwing down the broken bow and clutching at the blood that ran freely over his hand.

"Legede..."

Before Legolas could say anything else however, the spider was upon him, pinning the Elfling to the hard cold ground, hissing and spitting in the young Elf's face.

"LEGOLAS!"

The Prince had no weapons to defend himself. Archery was, after all, a less dangerous form of fighting to learn than sparing with sword or knife. As the spider loomed over him, that same substance which had covered the mare, slithered down the Elfling's body.

"LEGEDE!" the younger Elf screamed, using his hands to try and beat the spider back.

Already his legs were caught fast, wrapped in the cocoon of spider silk that, he knew from stories of the warriors of the realm, to be nearly unbreakable at times.

He poked at the beast's eyes, holding it's giant fangs at bay with time fingers.

Legolas looked around, searching for any sign of Legede.

Nothing...

'He has abandoned me...' the Prince thought, tears in his blue eyes. 'Legede left me... I shouldn't have been so mean... He...'

Before the Elfling could finish his sentence however, the spider dug it's fangs into his small neck. Legolas screamed as he felt his own blood wash over his tunic. He writhed beneath the creature, trying in vein to free himself.

His hands became stuck to his sides, torso and upper chest encased in the webbing.

Legolas' vision was darkening as the spider began to wrap his head. Unconsciousness, he knew, was coming to claim him.

'At least...' the Elf's mind wandered, 'It will not hurt anymore...'

With that last thought, Legolas fell, completely limp, to the ground.

* * *

"ADA!"

With a jolt, Legolas jerked awake, tears streaming unbidden down his face. His eyes found the scenercy familiar...

But before his clouded mind could realize what had happened...

Strong warm arms wrapped about the small body. Legolas clung to them, not fighting, not thinking, only feeling safe... secure.

"Ion nin... I thought I had lost you..." Thranduil's soft voice penetrated the haze of the Prince's thoughts.

Small hands clung to the Elvenking's tunic, Legolas burying his face in the soft cloth. Soon, Thranduil's clothing was wet from the Elfling's tears.

"Ada... Legede, he... He... I didn't... I couldn't..."

"Sidh, ion nin," Thranduil whispered, running his fingers through the Prince's long hair. "Sidh... Legede is fine, as are you.

Turning terrified eyes upon his father, Legolas shook his head. "The spiders, ada... they ambushed us. I tried to shoot them like... like Legede showed me... but the bow snapped and I... I couldn't..." he shivered, clinging once more to the Elvenking. "It wrapped me up, ada... bit me... I don't know where Legede went..."

"I am right here, caun nin."

The Prince's tear stained face turned, seeing the white haired captain in the doorway.

"Legede..."

He was standing there with a sad smile, his left arm in a sling. Other than that however, the Elf seemed to be unharmed.

"But how? You were gone! You left me there!" Legolas shouted, enraged. "You left me to the spiders! All because of that bow! Your ridiculous bow broke!"

But Legede shook his head, "When the bow snapped, caun nin... what happened to your arrow?"

Legolas thought this over for a long moment. "I don't know... I never could see it again..."

"But it did leave the string." Legede nodded, pointing to the sling he sported. "Your arrow pierced through my shoulder, Legolas. That was why it took me so long to save you. I retreated into the trees, shooting down those foul creatures as quickly as I could."

The Prince was speechless.

Thranduil turned his soft gaze to the Elfling in his arms. "Legede very nearly damaged his arm beyond repair, ion nin. He saved you from the spiders, and carried you back to the palace. His horse had become spooked in the process, and I fear yours could not be saved from the spider's silks.

Tears welled in Legolas' eyes. He shook his head, trying to deny that he had been saved.

'Sometimes, you will have to push past that pain to save yourself or to save the lives of those under your leadership and command...'

"Legede..." the Elfling whispered before springing from the bed, from his father's loving arms, and clinging to the Mirkwood Captain. "I'm sorry... please... I... I didn't mean to... I just... I wanted..."

The white haired Elf knelt, taking Legolas into his uninjured arm and holding the Elfling close. "Listen to me, caun nin... You are strong. If not of body then certainly of mind and heart." he teased lightly. "I bear this pain with pride, for I was able to save your life, mellon nin."

"But..." Legolas sniffed back his tears. "But I didn't check my bow or arrows... it was my fault, and..."

"And though that may be true, Legolas," Legede continued. "You have learned that lesson well. And, sadly, it seems that I will be unable to teach you your lessons for some time. At least until my arm heals." he smiled, ruffling the child's hair. "You get a much deserved break, Legolas."

Nodding, the Prince looked back to the Elvenking. "Ada... I... I don't want this to happen again..."

"But Legolas, you promised not to quit. I think that..."

But the Elfling shook his head, "I don't want to quit, ada... I want to get stronger. I... I don't like others having to protect me... especially when they get hurt in the process."

Thranduil smiled, "Then what will you do next, ion nin."

"Practice every day until Legede gets better, of course."

Both of the elder Elves laughed. "That is all well and good, but you need rest as well, ion nin." Thranduil spoke up, motioning for his son to return to bed.

Legede smiled, coming to sit down at the Prince's other side. "Besides Legolas... My wounds will heal, as will your own. All bruises fade with time."

* * *

"I donna get it..."

Merry sighed, "You never do, Pip."

"So... you practiced hard after that, Master Legolas?" Frodo asked, wondering just how hard archery was.

The Elven Prince nodded, "I did. Every day. For hundreds of years, Master Hobbit, I practiced with the bow and arrow until I knew the motions in my very sleep. When I shoot," Legolas whispered, his fingers delicately clasping the wood of his new Lothlorien bow, "When I shoot... I can feel the weapon, as if it too had a beating heart. We are one... just as my knives are an extension of my arms, so is the bow a part of my very sight and will."

"He never misses, after all." Aragorn put in with a slight smile. "At least... not when it matters."

Legolas turned an annoyed gaze on the human.

"What's he mean by that?" Pippin asked, smiling.

Aragorn's smile turned to a smirk. "Well, once, Legolas and I made a wager with my twin brothers about who could shoot the..."

"I think that's enough story-telling for one night." the Prince replied, cuffing the Ranger on the back of the head lightly.

Laughter drifted from where the Hobbits rested, and soon the four small beings were talking amongst themselves about archery and how it was done in the Shire.

Thinking of the proficiency of Hobbits with the bow boggled the Elven mind...

"What was that for?"

Legolas' blue gaze settled on his friend. "You were going to tell them the story of how I boasted that I could shoot an apple from the tree while jumping off a waterfall... were you not?"

"Of course!" Aragorn replied with a smile.

The Prince nodded. "Estel."

"Yes, Legolas?"

"No."

Aragorn smirked, about to protest.

"Just no."

Seeing the look on the Elf's face, the Ranger laughed.

No more that night did the darkness invade the hearts of that small company...

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

1.) The passage just after the story's title is actually from J.R.R. Tolkien's, "The Lord of the Rings". You can tell it's not mine because all of the quotations are in single quote marks ( ' ' ).

2.) Just so you know, and I think I looked this up right, a "Stone" is equal to fourteen pounds, so Legolas' bow has a draw of about thirty pounds. A "Stone" is an Anglo-Saxon measurement for Weight. Or so... Wikipedia told me... It's commonly used today for body weight, which I figure works well with a bow's pull weight. Also, there is no plural of "Stone"... just "Stone"... Apparently it used to be used more for weighing sundry goods... but I like the color it brings to the passage.

Anywho, when I began archery, my original bow was a thirty pound bow, but my instructor had me use a twenty pound. I kinda wish I'd stuck with the thirty now, because now I sometimes pull the string so far back that my arrow falls off the rest...

* * *

**WORDS TO KNOW:**

Ion nin = My Son

Ada = Father

Sidh = Peace

Hir nin = My Lord

Caun nin = My Prince

Mellon nin = My Friend

Thranduilion = Son of Thranduil


End file.
